The Consortium of Human History is a research organization. It existed first as a fraternal order of intellects from many disciplines who sought an understanding of the origins and the purpose of humanity in the universe, and over many centuries, as its members gained power and influence, the COHH emerged as a multinational organization that funded research into the human condition. The COHH helped to eradicate or slow many of the diseases that plague humanity, they helped to further exploration of space around the globe, they even had their hands in the development of cutting edge computer technology and are funding the current push toward quantum computing. The COHH partners with nation states and private business to further the human understanding of everything that makes our existence.
That is the image of the COHH in the US where it has funded research since its founding. The first COHH branch to exist in the US, formed in the American Southeast and they have always had very dubious intentions.
The COHH’s stated objective has always been to identify and encourage human excellence. The organization uses its resources to identify the brightest minds and innovative thinkers who are recruited for COHH membership while they work for other organizations, before they come to work full time for the COHH that has seemingly unlimited resources. The COHH makes money through generous donations and has inherited the estates of its wealthy members with no family at the time of their passing. They have skilled bankers and financial consultants who manage their wealth.
Though the COHH is well known for its research into social and political sciences, as well as the hard sciences, they also very discreetly dabble in metaphysical sciences. This encompasses all things outside the realm of provable hard science and has led to the confirmation of spirits, or ghosts. The COHH has an entire department dedicated to the study of spiritual energies.
The head of this department is known as Tin, a name he adopted as a member of the COHH board. His adult life before membership in the COHH is mostly shrouded in mystery. His early life is public knowledge. He was born Gregory Samin in northern Ireland in the late 1950s to a wealthy family that was well-known and believed to be cursed. Gregory was the youngest of twelve total children, and by the time he reached his tenth birthday, he was the youngest of three. His father was so wealthy because he was the only of his siblings still alive at the time of the death of his parents; he was only fifteen. To escape the talk of his family’s vast wealth and their infinite misfortunes, Gregory Samin disappeared on his eighteenth birthday. He was presumed dead because of his family’s history, but actually, he had stolen a considerable chunk of his family fortune and started a new life for himself with a different name. The plan wasn’t his, but it made sense to him and he was happy to be free of the Samin name. His older brother, who had died when he was eighteen after he killed himself to avoid the embarrassment of having been caught kissing a male classmate, had convinced him that he could find something better on his own, away from the expectations of high society.
The former Samin had an exciting life that he dedicated to exploration and excitement. He went to the rainforest and swam with dolphins. He took psychedelic drugs at music festivals and under the watchful eye of scientific researchers. He wrote books and essays about his experiences seeing the spirits of the deceased and he partnered with respectable research institutions to scientifically prove the existence of ghosts. This is the work that caught the attention of the COHH and after he joined them in the late 1980s, his work was noticeably absent from the public discourse on spirits.
“What kind of name is Tin?” Wendy asks as she stands, staring intensely at the middle-aged white man.
“It’s my chosen name,” he says. Great uncle is staring at him from a distance and they form a triangle. “The board members all have names like mine. I chose a common one. Something disarming. Nothing stately or expensive.”
“I came here because I’m looking for friends,” Wendy says. “Let me talk to them, if they want to be here, I’ll leave.”
“You can join them,” Tin says. “They are right upstairs, but you know that, don’t you? You are most impressive, Brave Chimutengwende. You are much more than that, but you are a tool of your ancestors and they give you so much strength. You wouldn’t be as much without them. I have ancestors, but they don’t walk with me. I envy you Brave.”
“Take me to my friends,” Wendy says.
“Right, excuse me, I am distracted by your abilities. Most mediums are only able to see spirits, but you can sense spirits, discern them, dissipate them. Can you mold them like Rhode? I bet you can. You incant, an ancient practice that can only be taught by spirits from a forgotten time. Can you discorporate your physical form? Can you solidify spirit energies? Those are incantations.”
Wendy bends slowly into an attack stance and as she settles, a long staff that she composes of her spirit energies seems to grow from her hand.
“Last time,” she says, “take me to my friends, or I will attack.”
Miriro attacks Wendy from behind, but before she can grab her, Wendy swings her spirit staff, knocks Miriro in the face and causes a bright gash on her cheek. Wendy attacks Tin, who lifts an arm with a smile on his face as a bright light flickers at the palm of his extended hand. Before she reaches him, there is a blast of energy that explodes from his hand and it completely encompasses her Great uncle before he can dodge it. Wendy pauses in shock and when the energy from Tin dissipates, her Great uncle is gone.
She drops to her knees and yells, sobbing and yelling.
Isheanesu hears it. He had followed Wendy at a distance and he rushes into the CZS and incants to send Wendy back to her home in Georgia. Anesuishe retrieves her and the two hold one another, mourning the loss of Great uncle.
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